Hellfire
by Anni Re
Summary: Erik when he decides that he is going to pursue Christine no matter what the cost. A look at the angst jealous side of Erik's mind. Based on the song "Hellfire" from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.


Hellfire

By

Anni Re

Erik smoothly opened the door to the chapel in the opera house, moving so fluidly that he almost didn't make a sound. He closed the door after he assured himself that no one was there. His golden eyes looked at the grey, emotionless walls all bare, except for the fading angel that was painted on the farthest wall. Erik's ever calculating eyes softened as he walked towards the angel, his eyes bound to her cream colored face.

Erik felt something at his waist and looked down at the altar covered in candles that were in memory to the loved ones of those who lived in his kingdom. Only one was lit, the one that was always lit. The candle of Gustave Daae.

Erik's throat constricted at the memory that thrust itself into his mind. This was the place he had first seen Christine, when he had first beheld her as a child kneeling on the exact place he stood before the image of her father. It was the day he became the Angel of Music.

Erik lit the rest of the candles on the altar before he looked up at the thing bathed in the dim light. The only angel in the room. He reached his gloved hand up and touched the right side of her perfect face. Another memory came; the masquerade, and the helpless look on another perfect face. He closed his eyes. He loved her, why was he barred from her? He had sinned yes, but was he so evil that life saw fit to deny him this one, small mercy.

His throat loosened.

_Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man _

_Of my virtue I am justly proud._

He drew his hand away from the angel's face and held his arms at his sides, palms forward, as if beseeching the angel.

_Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common_

Andre and Firmin's faces passes before his eyes.

_vulgar_

Bouquet's.

_weak_

The Viconte de Changy's.

_licentious_

Carlotta's.

_crowd._

His golden eyes focused of the swirls of grey smoke that stemmed up from the candles. He extended his hand and swirled the smoke so that it danced between his fingers.

_Then tell me Maria, why I see her dancing there _

_Why her smold'ring eyes still scorch my soul_

He curled his fingers around the dancing smoke and brought it to his lips where he kissed his closed fist. He held it to his chest, his eyes closed, his head tilted slightly towards the ceiling. He stiffly uncurled his fingers and brought them up to his face. He stroked the white mask in one long motion.

_I feel her_

He opened his eyes and stared at a spot just above his head.

_I see her _

_The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control_

He looked at the candles, which seemed to intensify, meshing together to form a single flame.

_Like fire_

_Hellfire_

He crossed his arms over his chest, lacing his long, skeletal fingers into the clothing on his shoulders.

_This fire in my skin_

_This burning desire is turning me to sin_

"No!"

Erik turned away from the fire and stumbled back towards the wall. His palms braced the stone and his head bowed to it. He felt the heat on his back and in the long shadows he saw the silhouettes of figures: the slave master, the mob, all staring at him accusingly of ever thinking he would be allowed to love.

_It's not my fault _

They didn't listen

_I'm not to blame_

_It is this dancing girl, the witch who set this flame_

_It's not my fault if in God's plan_

_He made the Devil so much stronger than the Man_

Erik knew he was fighting with his inner demon, the inner demon who would have Christine while he was the man who loved Christine. But the man who desired for peace was far weaker than the demon that fed off violence.

Erik spun on his heel and collapsed to his knees, his hands clasped together, pleading with the painted angel.

_Protect me Maria, don't let this siren cast her spell._

_Don't let this fire sear my flesh and bone _

The demon beat back the man.

_Destroy Christine Daae and let her taste the fires of Hell _

_Or else let her be mine and mine alone_

Erik heard a door slam above his head and sharply snapped his head up to the ceiling. He heard the Viconte and the incompetents speak.

"Christine, where is she?"

"She's not with you?"

"What?" said Erik to himself.

"She's nowhere in the theatre," said the Viconte, "she's gone."

"But how?" said the incompetents to Viconte.

"Never mind," said the Viconte to the incompetents.

"Get out you idiots," Erik said to all three of them.

Then the Viconte and the Phantom spoke in unison. "I'll find her, I'll find her if I have to burn down all of Paris.

So be it. He would have her. He would have her even if all Hell broke loose. The Phantom turned back to the altar and in his eyes the flames rose covering the wall, eclipsing the angel in the darkness. He spoke to the void, and to the flames.

_Hellfire_

_Dark fire_

_Now Christine it's your turn_

_Choose me or your pyre_

_Be mine or you will burn_

The flames grew stronger and seemed to reach out towards him, consume him. Erik backed away towards the door.

_God have mercy on her_

_God have mercy on me_

But the demon finally beat down the man, with his only thought being his one desire.

_But she will be mine or she will burn_

Erik turned the handle of the door that was an inch from his hand and violently left the room, slamming the door behind him with a clang. And seemingly like magic the flames died, as if they never existed.

Finis


End file.
